


Things We Lost To The Flames

by IndigoNight



Series: We Are The Last People Standing At The End Of The Night [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil and Carlos are finally reunited, and Carlos learns a little bit about what he missed. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3388583/chapters/7414118"> The Draw</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things We Lost To The Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This fic refers to the torture mentioned The Draw and contains a (semi) discriptive depiction of scar tissue. It also contains sexual content.
> 
> I'm sticking with the Bastille theme, so the title is taken from the Bastille song "Things We Lost In The Fire"
> 
> Enjoy

Carlos had almost forgotten what if felt like to truly relax. It had been a long series of days as the ramifications of his reentry into Night Vale washed over the little town. And the months before that, in the Desert Other World, although not overtly dangerous, had not exactly been restful. 

And so, when Carlos at long last had the opportunity to stretch out on his and Cecil's soft bed, in a pair of fresh, clean pyjamas after a cool shower, he intended to take full advantage of it. He sighed in contentment, watching as Cecil buzzed around their bedroom and letting the rises and falls of Cecil's voice crest and break against his ears. 

Cecil was roaming around the room, gesticulating enthusiastically as he recounted - completely unnecessarily - the news of the day for Carlos. Cecil's hair, which he had allowed to grow out longer than usual during Carlos' absence, bounced around his head in an unruly halo, seeming to buzz with the errant energy that Cecil was radiating. Cecil held one of his shoes, waving it around to emphasize his words, while the other shoe, though untied, remained on his foot. This gave him an uneven gait as he distractedly moved from hanging his tie on the hook on one side of the room to reaching for his comb on the other. 

Carlos said nothing. Cecil didn't need a response, still wrapped up in broadcasting mode as he rambled about his day. It was familiar, and thus comforting, to lazily watch Cecil's erratic movements and do little more than hum in occasional acknowledgement. 

"Cecil," Carlos interrupted, his voice warm and fond. "Come here." As much as he liked listening to Cecil ramble, he had been in the Desert Other World for a long time, and their initial reunion had been cut short by the chaos which followed Carlos' return.

Cecil paused, blinking in distracted confusion. But he heeded Carlos' beckoning hand, allowing Carlos to pull him down on the bed beside him. Smiling fondly, Carlos pried the forgotten shoe out of Cecil's limp fingers and tossed it aside. Cecil's mouth was still open, his sentence unfinished but forgotten as Carlos cupped his pale cheek. 

"I missed you," Carlos murmured, and Cecil forgot entirely about whatever he'd been saying. 

"I missed you too, Carlos, I-" Before Cecil could start off on another rant, Carlos leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss. It started out warm and soft, filled with tenderness. But it didn't take long for heat to rise between them, for Cecil to gasp wetly while Carlos wrapped an arm around Cecil's waist and pulled him closer. 

It had been so long, both were eager as lips and tongues became reacquainted with each other's skin. It was the first real opportunity they'd had - beyond a couple of unsatisfactory groping sessions - since Carlos' return from the Desert Otherworld. And even before Carlos had left Night Vale they'd been busy dealing with the insurgence again Strex, and no part of that situation had been conducive to a fulfilling sex life. 

So Carlos lifted his arms readily as Cecil pulled the soft t-shirt he'd been wearing over his head. Now bare chested, Carlos shifted so that he was laying prone on the bed, pulling Cecil down with him. Cecil sprawled, it taking more adjustment to match Carlos' position, since Carlos had been sitting comfortably while Cecil had initially just perched on the edge. But neither really cared, and, in fact, neither really noticed; Cecil was far too distracted doing something vaguely malicious with his tongue and teeth at the hollow of Carlos' throat, and Carlos was focused on his attempts to divest Cecil, literally. The plum colored vest Cecil had chosen to wear that day - over a lavender button down shirt - appeared to be bizarrely intend on not coming off. Carlos made a sound that was a mix of frustration at the reticence of Cecil's clothes and unholy pleasure at whatever it was Cecil was doing to his collarbone with his tongue.

To Carlos' great relief the vest eventually gave way after he tugged threateningly on one of the buttons, and the shirt under it followed suit without a fight. Cecil had moved his operations further down Carlos' chest, pausing briefly to kiss the now faint scar that remained just over Carlos' heart - the lingering reminder of the near fatal wound that had finally brought them together - before journeying on to Carlos' nipples. Carlos let out an involuntary groan when Cecil's lips sealed around his left nipple and began to suck. He abandoned Cecil's shirt, pushed halfway down his arms, in favor of curling his fingers in Cecil's silky hair. The strands, longer than Carlos was used to, gave him plenty to hold onto and he let out a guttural whine as he arched his chest up into Cecil's mouth. 

Carlos was hard, so hard that there was little blood left to the power his brain. It was hard to think, but luckily he didn't need to do much thinking while Cecil was lavishing such dedicated attention on him. He took the time to reacquaint himself with Cecil, disentangling his fingers from Cecil's hair, his hands smoothing down the planes of Cecil's neck and shoulders. Cecil was balanced over Carlos, using one hand planted on the bed to hold himself up. Cecil's other hand was trapped between them, stroking at the thin line of hair that lead from Carlos' naval to the waistline of his pants. 

Carlos shuddered involuntarily, his hips bucking up impatiently at Cecil's teasing touch. "Cecil!" The name caught and stuttered in his throat. His hands clenched in the collar of Cecil's open shirt, hanging loosely from his shoulders and slipping down his arms. Carlos pushed at the shirt. His skin felt tight and sensitive and suddenly he resented the clothes they still wore for forming a barrier between them. 

It took effort, mostly because Cecil was distracted and thoroughly uncooperative, but Carlos managed to pull Cecil's shirt clear of his arms and toss it over the side of the bed. He had to dislodge the arm Cecil had been balancing on to do it, but since that resulted in Cecil laying fully on Carlos with Carlos' leg conveniently placed between Cecil's, neither of them minded that much. 

“Wait,” Cecil panted, pulling back. It wasn’t enough to break contact between them, but it did lessen the current of electric desire that was running through Carlos’ brain. “I… I had plans.”

Carlos blinked. “Plans?”

“Plans,” Cecil reiterated seriously. His voice deepened, going low enough to vibrate in Carlos' rib cage, and Cecil's eyes deepened to match, the dark depths of his fathomless pupils seeming to suck Carlos in. "You were gone for a long time, while I was here, waiting," Cecil's head dipped, planting a burning kiss in the hollow of Carlos' throat. "Planning," Cecil continued, this time tracing his lips along the thrumming beat of Carlos' jugular. "Dreaming of what I'd do when I finally got my hands on you again." Cecil's lips hovered, cruelly tantalizing over Carlos', the air between them going still as Cecil waited and Carlos forgot to breathe. 

But Cecil overplayed his hand, and Carlos was not an overly patient man - which, in truth, may well have been Cecil's plan all along. Carlos planted one foot on the bed, wrapping an arm around Cecil's neck and the other around his slim waist. 

It wasn't as smooth if a motion as Carlos had intended; Cecil's long, gangly body was difficult to maneuver, and in his surprise Cecil flailed unbeseemingly. Nevertheless, Carlos managed to roll them over without either of them falling off of the bed. With their positions reversed, Cecil pinned beneath Carlos' body, Carlos' leg pressed between Cecil's thighs, Carlos silenced Cecil and ended the teasing with a firm kiss. Cecil whined against Carlos, lips, his hips canting into the curve of Carlos' body. 

Carlos' patience, and endurance, was at an end. He kept Cecil's lips busy with his own while his hand traveled southward. He fumbled with their pants until he could grasp both of their cocks, aligning their hips so that he could stroke them both together. He swirled his finger around the heads of their cocks, collecting the pre-cum that had gathered there and making Cecil keen. 

"Sweet merciful Void," Cecil whined, "please, Carlos, please."

Carlos grinned. He relinquished Cecil's lips in favor of nuzzling the sweet spot behind his ear. "Please what?" He prompted, his voice low and rasping with his own need. But Cecil was too far gone to answer. In all fairness, Carlos was too. It took only moments, Carlos’ hand working to stroke them in tantum, Cecil’s hands clasping and digging into Carlos’ skin as his hips rolled to meet Carlos’ touch. Neither spoke again, too busy panting wetly against each other’s mouths, until with a final needy gasp Cecil came. His cum spilled over Carlos’ hand and both of their stomachs and moments later Carlos followed suit.

“That… That was _nice_ ,” Carlos wheezed. He tilted himself sideways so that he fell onto the bed instead of on top of Cecil. They lay there side by side, staring up at the shadowed ceiling above them as they waited for their breath to come back to them.

"Next time, less teasing and more to penetration?" Cecil suggested, breaking the stretched moment of silence. He'd rolled his head to grin impishly at Carlos. 

Carlos mirrored him, though meeting Cecil's gaze backfired by triggering an ungracious snort from the scientist. "Deal," he agreed. He shifted, attempting to burrow his arm under the curve of Cecil's neck, thereby gaining the leverage to pull him closer. Cecil complied with a grin, rolling to conform his body to the curve of Carlos' side. He draped an arm across Carlos' chest and tucked his head so that it could fit under Carlos' chin. 

Carlos let out a slow, contented breath as their bodies settled into each other and the mattress beneath them. Stillness settled over them, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests. Cecil's eyes were closed, his nose nestled into the tuft of hair that covered Carlos' chest. Carlos, for his part, directed his gaze toward the shadowed ceiling above them. He ignored the faint skittering motions in the corners of the room just at the edge of his range if vision, instead allowing his imagination to paint formulas and data tables across the plaster of the ceiling. 

As Carlos' mind wandered, so too did his hands. One hand found Cecil's, resting as it was on Carlos' chest and Carlos twined their fingers together in a slow, undulating pattern of lazy movement. His other hand, curled around Cecil's shoulders in order to keep the radio host curled against his side, began to slide across the smooth skin that covered shoulder blades and trapezius muscles. Cecil's skin was soft and warm, and his muscles shifted ever so slightly under Carlos' sensitive fingertips. Carlos let his hand meander, dropping down from Cecil's shoulders toward the broad of his back, absently tracing the symbols that designated values in the formula his mind was projecting on the ceiling. 

His fingers paused however when they met unfamiliar terrain. Cecil’s back, which had once been so smooth, diveted only by the slight ripples of muscle and bone under his skin, was now a shocking landscape of thin raised lines. Carlos lost the train of calculations he’d been considering as his entire brain shuddered to a stop. “Cecil?” he asked, the near wordless question slipping from between his lips before he was even aware of it. There was so much meaning in that one word, so many questions, and Cecil’s reaction alone answered half of them.

Cecil didn’t answer in words, but the way his entire body stiffened clearly telegraphed surprise, and fear, and embarrassment. Cecil pulled away and Carlos felt the loss of his warmth like a physical blow. Lacking his usual enthusiastic grace, Cecil rolled toward the edge of the bed in jerky, disjointed movements. It looked as though he intended to flee the bed, possibly the room, entirely, but he paused at the edge of the bed, his bare feet resting on the cool floor and his hands digging into the side of the mattress. His back bowed as he hunched in on himself.

Carlos could only watch in horrified confusion as Cecil withdrew into himself with the sharpness of a snapping rubber band. Cecil’s was a presence that filled the entire room, a personality that wrapped itself around whoever came near him, invasive and caressing all at once; Carlos had never seen Cecil close off so completely before. The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees and it was as though he had been doused by a bucket of ice water. A horrible, aching loss settled in the pit of Carlos’ stomach and even in all the months he’d been stuck in the Desert Otherworld he had never felt so completely cut off from Cecil and his home in Night Vale.

“I… I forgot,” Cecil said quietly, while Carlos still floundered in the abrupt loss of contact. His voice was soft, nearly inaudible as he spoke to his knees, his back toward Carlos. “For a moment, I… I forgot.” He sounded fragile and lost and Carlos’ chest ached.

Carlos felt adrift, so violently torn from the joy and peace of only moments before, sated and tangled up in Cecil’s arms. As disorienting and pained as Cecil’s withdraw was, he had incidentally positioned himself perfectly so that the soft light filtering in through the window highlighted the very thing that had shattered their reunion. Illuminated in the semi-darkness, Cecil’s back was laced with thin, raised scars. They criss-crossed over one another, violent tears in the skin that had creased over one another and healed in a series of mountains and valleys that marred the once velvet smooth terrain of Cecil’s skin. Carlos didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or grab the nearest book and hunt down whoever had so harshly treated his boyfriend.

Carlos sat up, unconsciously chasing Cecil both physically and emotionally. While Cecil hunched on the edge of the bed, Carlos half knelt behind them, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the space that separated them. “Cecil?” he repeated softly, as though Cecil might break, or worse, disappear entirely if he spoke too loudly. He reached out, his fingers hovering just over the raised lines that crept across Cecil’s shoulder, desperate to reconnect, both longing and afraid to touch them. "Who-" Carlos started, but he didn't need to finish the question; he knew, a part of him had known since his fingertips had first touched the marred skin. "Strex. Strex did this to you."

Cecil didn't answer, and he didn't move. It was as though he'd built a wall around himself, protective but fragile. It would have been easy enough for Carlos to push through it, all he had to do was breach those last few centimeters of air between his out stretched hand and Cecil's shoulder, because no matter how wide the gap seemed the wall was just an illusion. But Carlos couldn't, wouldn't do that, afraid of how much more damage such a breach might cause. Instead he used the only safe tool left in his arsenal - words. They were clumsy and strained, tripping over one another as he struggled to find some way to express the crushing guilt and horror that had settled inside of him like throat spiders. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Cecil... I... I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you," Cecil pointed out quietly. It wasn't much, but it was enough. A proverbial white flag and the invisible wall that Cecil used to contain all of his hurt began to weaken.

"Can- May I touch?" Carlos' fingers hovered, longing and afraid. 

Cecil nodded. "It's healed now. It doesn't hurt anymore." As though physical pain was the only cause for Carlos' concern. 

Even with permission granted, Carlos could barely bring himself to touch the marks. He let his fingers skim, just barely, over one of the raised lines. It ran from the top of Cecil's left shoulder in a shallow arch until it curled around his right fourth rib. The skin was rough, Carlos' fingertip tracing the uneven surface, imaging his finger traversing tiny mountains and valleys. 

Cecil didn't flinch at the touch, but Carlos felt the twitch under his fingers that said part of Cecil wanted to. The pit of Carlos' stomach dropped and something deeper inside of him twisted into knots. Impulsively he pressed forward, covering the scars with his own body as he pressed his chest against Cecil's back. He draped his arms around Cecil's shoulders, hugging him close, wrapping as much of his body around Cecil as he could manage, like a weighted blanket holding Cecil down with a desperate kind of love. He closed all distance between them, shattering the fragile, desperate barriers that Cecil had built. It was something he should have done long ago.

"I should have been there," Carlos whispered. "I should have never left you alone like that. I'm so sorry, Cecil."

He felt Cecil's breath shudder under the press of his weight, felt the restrained sobs that without this physical contact Carlos would have been left forever unaware of. There was tension in Cecil's shoulders, a rigid, desperate tension like one clinging to the edge of a cliff face. "Don't, Carlos," Cecil pleaded quietly. He lifted a hand and clasped Carlos' arm where it lay across his collarbone; his long, thin fingers were cold to the touch, though he had been so pliant and warm only moments before in post-coital bliss. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Carlos asked. His voice was equally quiet, as though if they spoke too loudly they might shatter some protective charm that the semi-dark room provided them and expose themselves to the untold horrors of the outside world. He pressed his face into the juncture of Cecil's neck and shoulder, letting it muffle his words but not their intent. He let himself breath in, and forced himself to breath out slowly. He savored the scent of Cecil, adding it to the feeling of his skin and the sound of his heart beat and the sight of soft wisps of hair curling over Cecil's ear. Mentally he catalogued every one, every fragment of data that his senses could procure as evidence to support the fact that Cecil was real and safe. 

Carlos hadn't seriously considered the danger Cecil had been in. He hadn't let himself, and their hadn't been time. He didn't find out about the company picnic until after the fact, and he hadn't been there to see its aftermath. Then Strex was gone, defeated, and he'd been so caught up in his own experiences, in the dangers and thrilling mysteries of the Desert Otherworld, he'd never considered... But he was considering now, and more than considering he was faced with the real and tangible proof of the danger Cecil had been in, of the pain he'd suffered, and of how close Carlos had come to losing him forever. Carlos could feel the panic welling in his chest, useless and belated as it was.

"I wanted you to come home because you wanted to, not because you thought I needed you too." Cecil's answer was calm and matter-of-fact. It was also like a bucket of cold water on Carlos' panic. 

Mentally, Carlos rescheduled his freak out about almost losing Cecil for later, probably in the privacy of his lab; right now, he had more important things to deal with. "I wanted to," he said it immediately, almost sharply, cutting off the final syllable of Cecil's explanation. "I always wanted to, don't ever think that I didn't-"

"I know, I know," Cecil reassured, cutting Carlos off in turn. He pulled away from Carlos' embrace, unwrapping Carlos' arms from around his shoulders so that he could turn and face the scientist. There wasn't enough room for both of them to kneel so close to the edge of the bed, so Cecil ended up with his knees on the floor, reaching to cup Carlos' cheeks in both of his cold hands. "I just meant that-" Cecil hesitated, words escaping him. But he met Carlos' eyes, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles into the stubble of Carlos' cheeks, and a world of meaning that words could never properly convey passed between their locked eyes. 

Carlos sighed, giving in. He slumped, letting Cecil's strong fingers support the weight of his head as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You should have told me," he admonished quietly. "You were in pain, and I should have been here."

"You're here now," Cecil pointed out, the corners of his lips kicking up into a shy smile. 

Carlos couldn't resist leaning in and kissing those sweet, inviting lips. "I'm here now," he agreed. He curled his own fingers around Cecil's wrists, using the advantage of higher ground to pull Cecil back up onto the bed and into his arms. They landed in a tangle of limbs and shaky laugher at a forty-five degree angle across the bed and Cecil grabbed the blanket, draping it around them without bothering to shift their positions. They lay quietly for a while, Cecil’s head resting on Carlos’ chest while Carlos stroked Cecil’s hair. He carefully avoided letting his fingers dip too low.

“What… What else did they do to you?” Carlos asked eventually. His voice was quiet, almost inaudible, afraid to voice the words but unable keep them in his head any longer.

Cecil stiffened, and Carlos’ arm tightened around him reflexively, silently begging Cecil not to pull away again. “Carlos, I… I can’t, please-”

“Okay,” Carlos back peddled immediately. He hugged Cecil tighter, pressing a kiss to his temple. He hated not knowing; he hated not knowing things in general, but especially when it came to Cecil, when he knew it was something that caused Cecil pain. But no matter how much he needed to know, he wasn’t about to force Cecil to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. “Okay, but just… when, _if_ you can at some point, I… I want to hear it.”

“Thank you, Carlos,” Cecil whispered, his words muffled into Carlos’ skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Carlos answered.


End file.
